


Affection

by TheFrustratedNerd



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Other, RK900 is named Conan, at least at first, platonic cuddles, touch starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 02:59:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16359422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFrustratedNerd/pseuds/TheFrustratedNerd
Summary: Conan realises he’s touch starved, and turns to you for help.Originally posted on my writing blog: @sammies-writings-and-headcannons on tumblr





	Affection

The first thing Conan noticed about you was how tactile you were. If you needed to get his attention, rather than calling his name or model number like most other humans and androids alike whom he’d met, you would place your hand on his shoulder or arm. You’d often brush back his loose tuft of hair if you noticed it getting in his eyes, and you always made sure to hug him hello and goodbye. You always greeted him with a smile, unlike the stiff handshakes and stoic expressions he got day in and day out. Speak of the devil, Conan noticed you entering the house with Connor, his older brother and a close friend of yours. He allowed a small smile to tug at his lips before it fell in confusion, wondering why he was excited to see you. You did always give him some of the affection he lacked otherwise, perhaps that was it.

The three of you watched a movie and talked, you leaning against Connor with Sumo between yourself and Conan. Said android couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy at how affectionate you were being with his older brother, you didn’t often act affectionate with him to that extent. He found it difficult to focus on the movie as he wondered what it would feel like to just be held by you. Your arms around him, his head on your chest as you threaded your fingers through his hair, the sunlight streaming in through the blinds and resting softly atop the both of you like a second blanket. Bringing himself back to the present, he realised he was staring blankly down at Sumo’s head on his knee, looking back up to the movie playing as he wondered why it felt as if there were a cluster of needles in his chest. He quickly searched the internet for an answer as to why he was suddenly upset after thinking of affection, the result somewhat surprising to him. He was touch starved.

He supposed it wasn’t all that surprising, actually. He got very little physical affection in general, and every touch from you always felt warm and pleasant, even if he was too stoic to quite get that across to you. And, as luck would have it, the three of you were watching a cheesy, fluffy romcom. Of course.

It took a few weeks for Conan to work up the courage to bring up his discovery to you, and though it wouldn’t have appeared so to someone who didn’t know him well, you could tell he was a nervous wreck. He still struggled to express his emotions freely, even after being deviant for a solid few months now. The RK900 model was designed to be stoic and cold, emotions weren’t any more of a factor in his creation than in any other android. When he did tell you, it was the first time you’d ever heard him stutter.

“I-I, I understand fully if you are upset or disturbed by this development, or if you’d like to cut off contact, but I think it’s partially because you’re so affectionate with me that I’ve grown so attached to you. I suppose the best way to describe what I experience is that I’m touch starved.” He was looking anywhere but in your direction, his LED yellow with just the quickest, almost unnoticeable flash of red. He was surprised by your hand gently ruffling his hair, causing his gaze to meet yours.

“There’s no shame in wanting and liking affection, darling. It’s part of being alive, wanting to love and be loved by others. I can guarantee you, you’ll never be able to make me want to cut off contact with you.” He leaned into your hand as it came to rest on his cheek, the pleasant warmth of it still lingering after you pulled away. Conan felt a pang of disappointment before you leaned back on the couch, your side against the back of it and your back against the armrest, tugging him to lay down with you. He soon got the jist and cuddled into you of his own volition, his head resting on your chest and his arms around you, your legs wrapped around the tops of his thighs, your fingers threading through his hair. You pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head, Conan able to feel a blush creep onto his face as you said nothing more than a quick comment telling him to relax and get some rest.

After that, it became a common occurrence for the two of you to cuddle when you were together and had nothing else to do. Most often, if Conan had a particularly stressful or complicated case, he would work at home as well, going over the file while being laying back against you. It was one of the quickest ways to get his stress levels to drop, and easily his favourite. However, today felt different. There was something in the energy between you two, some sort of unresolved tension or forgotten detail. It was quickly revealed when Conan and yourself were barely awake, at around one or two in the morning.

You were playing absently with Conan’s hair, a soft, contented sigh escaping him at the positive attention. That’s when Conan spoke without thinking, a quick, practically blurted out, “I think I’m in love with you.” Time seemed to freeze. What was going on between the two of you was always a platonic thing, a gentle affection you displayed towards just about all of your friends who were comfortable with it and who you were close enough to, and you were mature enough to know that there was a big difference between him saying a quick “I love you,” before you both ended up falling asleep in a pile of blankets and tangled limbs, and “I’m in love with you,” spoken with such soft emotion you knew he couldn’t possibly be insincere.

You felt every muscle—cable? You weren’t sure which would be a more appropriate term—in his body tense, his breath hitching and his LED a bright red beacon of panic, a fear that he’d said something wrong. He quickly relaxed when you pulled back only slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple, right against the light. He couldn’t help the genuine smile and sense of peace as he heard from you the simplest of phrases, exchanged between the two of you dozens of times, but now holding an entirely different meaning.

“I love you too.”


End file.
